


Talk Shakespeare to Me

by arituzz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Poetry, M/M, Poetry, Poetry club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penny forces Simon to join the poetry club. He'd never thought he was going to enjoy it so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Shakespeare to Me

High school AU

 

**SIMON**

 

“A poetry club?” I ask her, incredulous. “Penny, I don’t know the first thing about poetry! Or  language for all that matters! Can’t you ask Agatha?” She is asking me to go with her to the new poetry club, because she doesn’t know anyone there.

“Already have. She’s too busy with ballet and horse riding lessons,” Penelope answers. “Come on, it won’t hurt you.”

“ _ Penny, _ ” I beg her.

“ _ Simon _ . Don’t make me force you to come.”

“Pfft. You already are,” I mumble.

\---

So, after classes, we go to the poetry club. We are the first ones to arrive so we sit in the front row of the classroom.

I spend the whole hour doodling dragons on my notebook while the rest take turns to recite their poems.

Until I hear his voice.

 

_ “I hate the way you smile  _

_ When you think no one sees you. _

_ I hate how you speak carelessly _

_ And with your mouth full of pain. _

_ I hate how much I miss you, _

_ Even when you are in front of me. _

_ I hate that you, yourself, _

_ Are a poem with no rhyme. _

_ I hate that I can’t hate you _

_ Even though I try with all my might. _

_ I hate it  _

_ Because loving it, is a privilege  _

_ I’m not worthy of having.” _

 

It’s Baz. Fuck, what’s he doing here? Baz is the bully of the class. Well, he only bullies me. I don’t know why. 

He looks at me like he always does. Ruthlessly. I ignore him and continue drawing until it’s time to go.

\---

The next day, I sit at the back of the classroom. I doodle and doodle until again, I’m captivated by the same voice. Baz’s.

 

_ “You think you know everything that there is to know about my soul _

_ Thing is _

_ I don’t even have one _

_ For the path I follow _

_ Is the one of the eternally condemned.” _

 

Why am I captivated by his voice? I don’t even listen to Penny. Every time it’s Baz’s voice that startles me.

\---

The following day I’m late. Penny’s befriended Sophie, a girl a year younger than us. Top of her class. So she doesn’t need me anymore. I don’t know why I keep coming.

When I enter the classroom, there’s only one free space. Right next to Baz. Shit. Too late to go back now. So I take the seat and try to ignore him. 

I take out my notebook and start doodling dragons, as usual. Until I’m startled by something different than Baz’s voice, Baz’s hand. 

“Here,” he says, handing me his pencil case. “I thought you could use some colours. For your dragons, you know.”

“Yeah… uhm… thanks,” I say, accepting the colouring pencils.

So now I start colouring the dragon doodles. Until, of course, my attention is caught by Baz, reciting his daily poem.

 

_ “I am a fool. _

_ A fool that wants to touch a star. _

_ I am reaching, _

_ But I am falling. _

_ I am reaching so high, _

_ That I can’t stop the freefalling.” _

 

He looks at me while he speaks. He doesn’t read. He always recites from memory. It’s impressive, I guess.

He comes back to his seat.

“That was very good,” I tell him, although I have no idea if it was good or not.

“I didn’t know you listened to us,” he sneers. “Or that you liked poetry at all.”

“I listen every day,” I say.  _ Only at you _ . I don’t say.

He doesn’t look convinced but decides not to argue.

I spend the rest of the hour colouring the dragons.

\---

The next day, I look for Baz and sit next to him.

“For the colouring pencils,” I tell him. “My dragons look better. Happier.”

He doesn’t say anything, just gives me the pencil case. Our fingertips brush and I’m taken by surprise at the feeling of Baz’s touch.

I look at him. He takes his hand back and looks away.

I colour my dragons, unsettled, waiting for Baz’s turn. 

Until it finally comes. I stop colouring to stare at his stormy grey eyes.

He clears his throat, and looks directly at me.

 

_ “I’m playing a game, _

_ Where I don’t know the rules. _

_ I feel so cold, _

_ So I reach for your heat. _

_ And I can’t help but thinking, _

_ This will end in flames.” _

 

I love his voice. And the way he looks at me while he recites. 

He comes back to his seat and I smile at him. He looks nervous. But he doesn’t say anything.

\---

The following day Baz is not in the classroom. I sit alone in a corner, expecting for him to arrive at any moment. But he doesn’t.

My dragons are all grey today.

\---

The next day I stop Baz in the corridor.

“Why didn’t you come yesterday?” I ask him.

“I’m not in the club anymore,” he replies.

“What? Why? You’re brilliant.”

“It’s none of your business, Snow.”

He makes to go but I grab his arm before he can. 

“What are you fucking doing? Let me go.” His eyes are fire. 

I don’t know what to do to make him stay. So I kiss him.

He grabs my face and kisses me back. I pull him closer to me. 

This is better than the poems.

“Snow,” he says after a while, breaking the kiss. “What are you doing? Are you mocking me?”

“What? No,” I say. “Why do you think so?”

“Because my poems are all about you?”

“Are they?” I had no clue. I’ve never understood their meaning. I just liked the way Baz’s mouth was filled with the words and released them, one by one.

“Of course, you idiot.”

I take his face in my hands and kiss him again until I’m breathless. This is so much better than the poems.

\---

The following day I go to the club with Baz. I can’t stop grinning. And he’s struggling to hide the big smile on his face, too.

Baz takes his usual seat, but I go to the front of the classroom.

“This is for Baz,” I say. 

 

_ “Roses are red _

_ Violets are violet. And white. And blue _

_ Even though you’re a moron sometimes _

_ I think I’m in love with you” _

 

Baz bursts out laughing. It’s the first time I hear him laughing. The sound is even more beautiful than his voice. I laugh, too. And so do the rest of the class.

I take my seat beside him. And kiss him. In front of everyone. They don’t look too surprised.

“Sorry the poem was crap,” I tell him.

“Don’t worry,” he says, grabbing my hand. “This is better,” he says, before kissing me softly. “It’s worth ten thousand poems.”

  
-FIN-


End file.
